


hold me tight

by casastella



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Intimacy, M/M, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casastella/pseuds/casastella
Summary: [Semishira Week: Day 2]Crashed and stranded on a planet beyond space and time with no hope of rescue, Semi and Shirabu finally get this right.
Relationships: Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou
Kudos: 44
Collections: Semishira Week 2020





	hold me tight

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is taken directly from an original work of mine but I love the scene so much. It's not explicitly clear in this part of story but Semi is a notorious pirate lord and Shirabu is a banished prince who got sucked into crime after meeting Semi. ...Now I really want to write the thing in Semishira.
> 
> Update: I realised my original title was very similar to another fic so I changed it. To the author whose work I unintentionally ripped the title from, if you are reading this, I'm so sorry! Please forgive me.

Semi is not sure what he’s doing when he stretches out a hand towards Shirabu, only that this is something he wants and he has a tendency to get things he wants. “Dance with me.”

Shirabu stops fidgeting with the small droid he’s assessing, looks at Semi’s outstretched hand and then at Semi, quirking an eyebrow. “I don’t dance.”

They’ve never talked about this but they both know. They know how much Shirabu loved it and they both know how he always watched performances with unsatiable hunger in his eyes. They both know his first time in the gladiator rings took the dearest part of him and shattered it – and when Semi feels sentimental, he thinks of taking the blame for it, feels the barest of guilt.

But the world Shirabu had decided to thrust himself into had no room for a dancer’s grace or a prince’s kindness, only strength. Semi’s conscience is never clean and he’s done what he had to for survival and power. If someone asked whether he’d do it all again, he’d say yes without hesitation, including letting Shirabu go into those fights because he _knows_ Shirabu would be the one left standing, coming out with fangs sharper and a reputation to strike fear. So Semi looks at Shirabu’s ankle, the way he favours his left leg, but doesn’t linger on the regret for long.

He nods at his hand. “Come on.”

Shirabu rolls his eyes and thumps the droid on the table. “I _can’t_ dance.”

He won’t take Semi’s hand so Semi takes his hands instead, lifting both from the edge of the table. They’re not the soft, smooth hands he held when they first met; when Shirabu had been floating in the dead of space, suit dangerously low on oxygen by the time Semi plucked him out of the cold nothing and onto his ship, and Shirabu hated him for it. These hands are calloused and hardened by the grip of guns and knives, and he craves the feel of them on his skin, steady and dangerous.

“Semi, for God’s-”

He leans in close, lips brushing and Shirabu’s words fall away with a hitch of his breath, mouth ajar. He wants to kiss him properly, not like the times when they’d pinned each other against the nearest surface, chasing the thrill of harsh words spat between them, blades at their throats, brutal threats hissed lowly between gasps. Well, Semi wants that too but he swallows that desire, reigning it in with the need to take this slow for once, for the first time, with their lives on the line.

“Trust me,” he whispers and hears how hoarse his voice has become.

Shirabu lets himself be led to the centre of the dark room, lit only by strips of red emergency lights, limping along. Semi sees the hesitation, the uncertainty written clear as day, and beneath that is something that tries not to appear as fear. Shirabu’s jaw ticks and tries to pull his hands away but Semi tightens his hold.

“It’s okay,” he tells him.

And despite the dire situation they were in, crashed and stranded on a planet beyond space and time with no hope of rescue, Semi has never been more sure of anything.

“It’s okay,” he repeats, placing Shirabu’s hands on his shoulders and tugging him closer. “Put your weight on me.”

“There’s no music,” Shirabu mutters, bottom lip rolling beneath his teeth and nearly undoing all of Semi’s resolve with that one simple action.

Semi hums to distract himself, a song he remembers from old movies which he remembers watching with Yumi a long time ago, before his mother took her from him. But he never sang for her, not even once because he was terrible and didn’t want Yumi to know.

With Shirabu, it’s different. He’s seen every part of Semi; he’s seen him shoot down a mark from a hundred yards, he’s seen him drink himself stupid, he’s seen him take warships head on, he’s seen him at his lowest, at his cruellest. There is nothing Semi needs to hide from Shirabu, least of all this.

So Semi sang quietly, out of tune and mumbling half the lyrics and repeating the chorus a dozen times as he rocked them side to side slowly, letting Shirabu set the pace. He’s casted his eyes to Semi’s chest and eventually lets himself lean on him, the warm press of his body a calm presence against him. Semi dares to slip a hand under Shirabu shirt and he lets him.

Maybe they dance for hours, maybe for minutes. Semi loses track of it all and loses himself in the quiet intimacy of the moment because this. This is something else entirely to those needy kisses that bruise and fervent hands around the base of their necks. This is the feeling of rain in drought or sun after storm or…something from a distant memory; home.

He doesn’t even notice how heavily Shirabu has been leaning on him until he stills and peels away- Only to crumple with a sharp gasp of pain.

Semi catches him, holding on tight. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he rasps with a wince.

The admission takes him by surprise but only for a moment. He helps Shirabu to the bed, setting him down on the edge and then drops to his knees.

“What are you doing?”

Semi gently takes off Shirabu’s shoes and socks, and rubs smooth circles into his right ankle. He glances up and finds a familiar frown but Shirabu says nothing. Semi’s wanted to do this for so long now, to be able to offer comfort, no matter how brief. But what he could never figure out is when the addiction to Shirabu’s mouth became an addiction to _him_. He doesn’t know when he started wanting to find Shirabu in his bed for more than one night, to find him wrapped in Semi’s sheets in the morning so he could worship him again and again, knowing he would find Shirabu in his bed again the next night.

Sometimes that want was so strong it threatened to destroy him from the inside out. More often than he could count, he reached for the comm, thumb hovering over Shirabu’s name and it took all his willpower to not press ‘call’ and beg him to come so he could see him and hold him and tell him stupid things like, “I love you.”

“Is this okay?” he asks and it’s so, _so_ soft that even he realised it.

Shirabu nods, watching in that wary way of his. Semi slowly slides his hands over his calves, over his knees. Shirabu’s eyes darken with want. Semi feels the lithe muscles along his thighs and the shift of them as Semi spreads Shirabu’s knees apart to take the space between, leaning in. He thinks Shirabu would tease him with ghostly brushes of their lips and the trail of his nails up Semi’s body, intoxicating him so thoroughly he forgets his own name. But not this time. He tugs Semi by his shirt and their lips meet with barely restrained desire, in silent agreement to finally do this right.

By blessing of all the gods of humanity, they pull themselves together enough to be gentle as they roll onto the bed, to take their time, and Semi gives Shirabu everything he deserves. If Shirabu notices the extra careful caresses of his face or the soft pecks against his panting mouth, he doesn’t mention them and he doesn’t push him away when Semi lays his head on his chest afterwards and counts the rhythm of their raging heartbeats reflected in each other’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Kudos and comments are always very much appreciated.


End file.
